Obie's Dilemma
by dragonnan
Summary: Never should have let others do the job for him. This was his responsibility. He'd been there at the start. It only followed that he should end it too. Companion to "Simple Math"


He wasn't a malicious man. He could be honest in his own head, though, that he was a greedy man. Nothing wrong with greed. Greed built empires. Greed ensured the balance of power remained forever tipped in your favor. On the smaller scale, greed won promotions, got you the love of your life, and kept your future, as well as the future of your decedents, secure. Poets liked to say that love was the greatest emotion, but how many of them would happily trade love for dollars if someone offered to buy their shit?

He'd thought Tony was smarter than this. He was right, though, what he'd said to Pepper. Tony had been broken after Afghanistan. Not that he was meant to have survived in the first place. Well Tony hadn't been right for a lot of years. He hadn't started out a boozer and skirt chaser. Some people could handle success and still keep their eye on the prize. Tony though... ah Tony. He got bored. But instead of finding that new spark; exploring that amazing genius of his creations... he started drinking. Yeah, the kid had developed a taste for Scotch back in college. Too young to drive, not that it stopped him, he had depended on Obie to bail him out of the drunk tank far too often. Bribing a public official to look the other way was nothing new. They could be bought on the cheap.

Been holding the kid's hand ever since.

Never should have let others do the job for him. This was his responsibility. He'd been there at the start. It only followed that he should end it too. Howard hadn't been the type to pass out cigars or carry a flip book of baby pictures but he'd introduced his business partner to his infant son at a dinner party. Undersized, underwhelming, Obie's introduction had involved the squirt peeing on his silk tie. Just four pounds at birth, the tiny thing wouldn't have made it without the intervention of science. He'd, quite literally, been born into it. Turning his back on it all, now, was the absolute betrayal. He didn't deserve the innovations that had saved his life. Not then, and not now. Fitting, that his own innovations would end it. You could even say it was poetic.

Ah, but he'd had that genius... once upon a time. Outshined his old man. Left the production crew in his dust – scrambling to keep up. Could never keep up. Always required Tony to personally step in on his own projects. They were good. The best in the business. Tony though... the kid had been a god.

Obadiah knew exactly how he stacked up against that intelligence. Sure, he was brilliant in his own right. But he was more the instigator of grand ideas. He built in his mind what Tony built with his hands. They were perfect for one another – that way. And where Tony could charm and pontificate, Obadiah could cajole and facilitate. Tony had fans. Obadiah had loyalties.

The kid's name was on the glass, but without Obadiah's influence and connections, Stark Industries would be nothing more than a think tank; wasting away in robotics and the sort of shit that made hippies squeal. Tony might be a legacy, but Obadiah had built that company with blood and sweat and determination – crafting it into the powerhouse of innovation that dominated the militarized weapons scene.

And then Tony had gone to Afghanistan.

He'd been faltering, though, long before then. Wasting. Howard had planted the seed but it was Obadiah that had nurtured it. _He_ was the one to show the kid the ropes. _He_ was the one to pour the kid's first glass of brandy. _He_ was the one who taught Tony how to drive his first car – a gift Tony had had to earn because Howard hadn't pandered to the ideas of a free ride. Literally. When the kid crashed his motorcycle the Christmas of 1987, it was Obadiah who got the call to pick him up from the hospital. He'd kept his promise not to tell Howard. He'd solidified that confidence ever since.

What a fucking waste.

Maybe this was his fault – not pushing enough. Indulging too much. Too much booze, too many women, not enough time in the lab. Multitasking. Tony had used that word a lot. Distractions.

The Jericho was supposed to be his crowning glory.

An easy sell. A lot of flash and bang to the guys on the receiving end. It was supposed to be a one way trip to the desert so why not let the kid think he'd impressed the old man? Never delegate what you can do yourself. Lesson learned. No, it wasn't a bad design at all. Even innovative. Better than anything else on the market and years ahead of anything the competition could churn out. But there was innovation and then there was Stark innovation. If Tony had truly been inspired... Well, they could have ruled the world.

Yeah, Tony had had it too good. Too easy. Too many people falling at his feet or into his bed. He'd lost his edge. His passion. From asset to liability. Three months in a cave – constant threat of torture and death... If he'd know what beauty could come from a little pressure he'd have turned the lab into a dungeon years ago.

He supposed it was sentimentality – his need to explain it all to Tony. Maybe... he felt he'd owed the kid that much. At least let him know his final creation was his greatest. Let him know that his legacy would carry on forever.

His creation wouldn't die with him. It had a dazzling and noble future. Not that Tony would be likely to appreciate the gesture. Selfish.

One last pat on the knee, and it was time to get going.

Dead, by now. He'd been fighting by the time Obadiah had walked from the room. Eyes glazed and streaming – the paralyzing effects froze the eyes and made it a struggle to blink. Better, like this. Practically a comfort – dying in his own home on a soft couch. Not executed in a war ripped country. It was the least Obadiah could do for the kid after he'd given the world such an amazing gift.

Funeral arrangements in his head alongside plans for reverse engineering. The arc reactor a novelty on its own – an asset in mass production. A test run, first. One problem dealt with – one more remaining. He really did feel bad about Pepper. She'd be hard to replace. She may even be impossible to replace. But her loyalties were to the man more than the company. A shame.

Tapping out the last few commands, now. Syncing the power source to the machine. Not a lot of time – knowing Miss Potts was cozied up with the men in black. Well he had the means to deal with them too. Clear the way to his own legacy. Master of the universe had just the right ring to it.

One last system check and...

Voices. She'd arrived ahead of schedule. Always was a go-getter, that one.

A final key stroke and...

Game over.

Out of time.

For them.


End file.
